


I'm Coming Home

by anomalousity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending to 9x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Coming Home

Castiel’s phone rings in the middle of the night.

He turns, almost gawking at the number that flashes so boldly on the screen. His hand trembles as his thumb rests over the little green button. Sam is snoring in his lap, long strands of hair splayed over Castiel’s knees as he attempts to nurse him back to health. But he can’t think about his health, not with the all too familiar number flashing on the screen.

He pushes the button and his heart stops.

“Cas?”

Castiel almost faints from the relief that courses through his veins, Dean’s warm timbre settling warm in his bones. Freckles and smiles swim below his eyelids, brief touches and flitting glances dance in his subconscious.

“Hello, Dean.”

Neither of them speaks beyond those terse greetings for a few moments. The clock ticks by but Castiel’s heart continues its ceaseless race. His fingers course through Sam’s hair of their own accord, soft puffs of breath warming his hand as he soothes Sam’s dreams.

He waits moments, but Dean waits until he’s drifting to speak again. “Cas, I’m in Lawrence.”

“What?” Castiel’s eyes go wide, his spine ramrod straight.

Dean’s laughter buzzes through the speaker. “Yeah, I’m… home.” He doesn’t say anything more, nor does he say anything less. It’s in the whirring of his breath over the receiver, the way it hitches when Castiel doesn’t answer immediately.

Castiel knows Dean better than the back of Jimmy Novak’s hand.

“How close?” he asks instead of the obvious _why_. He knows why, he’ll always know. Castiel lets his eyes drop to the snoozing man in his lap, his lips turning up despite his knowledge of the precarious state the younger Winchester is in.

Dean’s voice breaks into his thoughts. “I’m outside.”

His hands go to Sam’s head and he’s lifting him out of his lap in one fluid movement. His legs carry him to the window of their own accord, and sure enough, the impala is parked at the curb. Castiel sucks in a breath when he sees Dean’s lean frame reclining against the hood, his head cocked to the sky as he holds his phone to his face.

Nothing springs to mind other than, “I love you.”

“What?”

Castiel shakes his head before turning from the window. “What?” he echoes, heading towards the main door of the bunker. He wraps his hand around the handle, tugging it open before heading out into the brisk air.

“You just said you…” Dean murmurs across the line, his voice quiet in the night. But Castiel can’t pay attention to that; he needs to find Dean. Castiel scans his eyes over the dark landscape, spotting Dean just up the hill. His legs are almost too slow as they carry him towards his body in a sprint, his stolen grace propelling him faster and faster.

And Dean meets his outstretched arms with a tight hug.

Their phones clatter to the pavement, unacknowledged and unimportant. Castiel tucks his head into Dean’s neck, holding himself close despite Dean’s rule of personal space. Not that Dean seems to mind; his arms are vicelike around Castiel’s waist, his lips warm over Castiel’s cheek.

When he pulls away, he can’t help but smile, and then snort.

“Dean,” he murmurs, brushing Dean’s hair from his forehead as though spurred by some laden instinct. “You’re home.” He watches Dean’s eyes dart to the ground between their feet and back to Castiel’s eyes. The green swims in clear, his lids fighting to keep his emotion in check.

“Yeah,” he replies, running his fingers down Castiel’s spine. “I’m home.”

Castiel hardly wastes another minute; he tugs Dean down the hill and into the inviting warmth of the bunker. His eyes go wide, scanning the wide, unchanged expanse of the bunker’s foyer. He smiles as he pulls him through the hall, their footsteps resounding through the constant quiet that characterizes the Winchester’s home.

They walk to Dean’s bedroom, where Castiel has left his meager supply of paraphernalia. He kicks off his shoes, watches as Dean does the same, and they climb into the bed. Dean’s hands are gentle as they push Castiel’s jacket off his shoulders, as they unbutton his shirt and drag that off too. They are nervous when they go for Castiel’s belt, and even more so when they land on his fly.

They’re loving when they wrap around Castiel’s middle.

Dean’s lips are softer than Castiel had grown to expect; cooler, too. He returns Dean’s fervor with vigor of his own, pumping as much desperation and emotion into the kiss as Dean rolls atop his body. Their legs tangle, before Dean finds what works, and then, he pushes.

Castiel’s head lolls backwards with a groan. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this; he didn’t even expect _it_ to happen. Castiel hangs on to Dean’s shoulders as he rocks against him, his breath hot over Castiel’s face.

He wants so badly to last. He _needs_ to last. But it’s impossible.

It takes him hardly five minutes to come. His body tenses and clenches all at once, his head slips backwards and Dean’s lips slide to his neck. Heat curls low in his stomach, between his legs, and when he spouts his release, he tells Dean he loves him.

It’s not until the stars pass that he realizes that could have been a mistake.

Dean is still above him, his eyes wide as they scrutinize Castiel’s face. Castiel’s lips flap and open, desperate for words that can make this right, that can amend the destruction he’s caused to their relationship.

But they’re family, and Castiel will _not_ hurt his family.

Instead, he watches Dean’s face as it looms closer and closer to his, until his breath breezes into Castiel’s mouth. They’re so close, so close to separating whatever barrier it is that they have yet to breach, so close to falling into the eternal, unknown void that is vocalized love.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And they fall.

Dean’s lips slam into his own, his hips roll over Castiel’s softening member, and seconds later warmth spurts onto his belly. Dean’s hands caress down Castiel’s sides as he rides out his orgasm, his heart racing in time with Castiel’s. Their breathing mingles in a heedless attempt at stability, destroyed by both of their natures.

When Dean pulls away, Castiel finds that he believes him.

He slides off of Castiel’s body, but not away. Dean tucks an arm under Castiel’s head, lets the other drape over his waist, and tucks a leg between Castiel’s. His eyes are open, wide, beautiful green brimming with untold confessions that Castiel would do _anything_ to hear.

But now he can, and it’ll only cost him a night.

A smile blooms over his lips, his eyes watering despite his best efforts. “I’m glad you’re home, you idiot.”

Dean snorts before pulling himself close to Castiel’s chest, burrowing his face into Castiel’s neck. His lips press gentle kisses into the sensitive skin, his hands skim in the space between Castiel’s shoulder blades. After a moment, he pulls himself away and fixates Castiel with a heart stopping smile.

“I am too.”


End file.
